


Dragon Blood

by AlayneHarper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #snape is as good of a parent as you think he'd be, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-15 11:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17528141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlayneHarper/pseuds/AlayneHarper
Summary: When the world around you is ugly and so is the person you see behind your eyes, you don't want to create beauty.You want to destroy it.A Draco Malfoy origin story.





	1. Battle Blue

 

_Fill the seats of justice_

_With good men, not so absolute in_

_goodness_

_As to forget what human frailty is._

Ion Act V, Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd

 

 

Draco's earliest memory was of the first time he met Albus Dumbledore.

It had been a short encounter, with Draco shyly standing behind the ragged armchair in front of the stairs, having been sitting in it playing with a snitch, before the floo had sputtered into life.

Draco had only realized when he was seven who Dumbledore was, when he came by the man's picture in a potions book that explained the uses of dragon blood, along with giving a summary of the accomplishments of their founder, Albus Dumbledore. But even without knowing that Albus Dumbledore had defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and then become the only man feared by the Dark Lord, the impossible man that had hopped out of the fire marked the first time Draco felt pure, undulated fear.

Dumbledore had been shining, _burning_ bright.

Recounting the memory when his childhood would feel like a lifetime ago Draco would remember the scene by its colours; the worn grey that he associated with Spinner's End, the exploding white of Dumbledore's flowing beard and magic, the bronzed gold of the snitch clutched in his white knuckled hands, and the iron red taste of fear that exploded in his mouth when he clenched his jaw.

In reflection, much of Draco's life had been spent associating red and white with fear. It seemed inevitable when everything else in his life except the grey had been either red or white.

The discovery of Dumbledore's identity had lead him to prompt a discussion with Severus at dinner that day so many years ago.

"Severus, does Dum-le-dor" Draco had to take time to sound out the name, "kill Death Eaters?"

Remembering Dumbledore's yells about a Mundungus Fletcher being ambushed and the need for healing potions that had been his fist meeting with the wizard, the hard sound of his voice and the harder look in his eyes made Draco certain that he could.

"No he doesn't," Severus' answer was brisk and said in the same tone of voice he used when he was working on his potions and wanted Draco to leave.

There was a pause were Severus had stopped eating to stare intently at him, and Draco quickly averted his eyes. He always seemed to get into trouble when Severus held his eyes for too long.

"So he doesn't kill Death Eater children too?" Draco wouldn't have asked but he knew that Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and he wanted to know if he could hope to go when he was older. When he had wanted a racing broom Severus had told him to only hope for things that he could get, with the same weird look on his face that Dobby got when he did laundry. Draco had gotten the broom last month on his birthday so he was sure Severus could tell him what he could get or not.

"Don't be daft, Dumbledore would never physically harm a child. What have I told you about questions?"

Draco had to stop himself from looking down at his plate and mumbling, it would only cause Severus to be more disapproving.

"To only ask them when I have to, or when I have first tried to find the answer myself."

Draco hated when he did something wrong because he wanted to be just like Severus and make him proud. Quietly turning back to his breakfast Draco was determined to spend the rest of the day reading his potion books instead of flying. He was sure he could impress Severus by reading the whole potions book that didn't have a single picture in it!

Three years passed. The second time he met Albus Dumbledore he was ten years old.

He had been asleep when he had been awoken by the bright shining light of the sun. Or at least he had thought so before looking out of his bedroom mirror and seeing the night sky.

A sense of remembrance made him want to stay in his bed, hide his head under his covers to hopefully block out the bright light, and go to sleep. He would have, if it were not for the thought of Hogwarts.

Draco was due to get his acceptance letter in a few months, a fact that he had not failed to remind Severus of every morning that he had to go back to work.

Draco wanted to see Dumbledore himself, to see if he could handle being in the man's presence at Hogwarts, to see if he could block Dumbledore's bright white light like he could Severus's emerald green one.

So gripping his white dragon pendant, something Severus had told him they had found him with the Halloween his mother had died, he tiptoed to the living room.

Pressed against the wall next to the living room entrance he took a moment to try to block out Dumbledore's light so he could concentrate on listening over the burning sensation it caused.

" – amel agreed to help you in this _plan_ Headmaster?" Draco heard once the rushing in his ears and the light had dimmed. Draco smirked to himself thinking of the sneer Severus was almost certainly directing at the Headmaster.

"It will be well protected Severus, and Nicolas understands the importance of the reason we need it," Dumbledore's surprisingly soft voice answered.

"Very well Albus, if he chooses to put his life in danger then I won't stop either of you in your madness. I will make sure at least that the protection I devise will not be one that can be conquered by silly wand waving."

"Your support is greatly appreciated as always my boy. I know that you worry since Harry is coming to Hogwart's."

"Albus."

"Ah, I apologize Severus my memory is not what it used to be. It is young Draco who is coming to Hogwarts this year as well."

"To which I dread each day. Merlin knows the trouble the boy will find in that castle and the joy Minerva will get in reminding me of it." Draco frowned, Severus should trust that he wouldn't be found out by McGonagall of all people. He made a note to review his Transfiguration books one more time. He sniggered imagining the McGonagall Severus always told him about having to admit that he, Draco Malfoy - ward of Severus Snape - was her top student.

"I'm sure you will make sure his adventuring spirit will not extend to a meeting with Hagrid's friend in the third-floor corridor won't you Severus?"

Draco's interest was piqued but before he could hear Severus's answer he felt a tug on his sleeve that almost made him tumble in front of the living room entrance.

He turned to see Dobby's scolding eyes and knew his night time adventure was over. He only hoped that Dobby could be convinced not to tell Severus.

 

 


	2. Scheming Slytherin

 

 

"It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him."  
― J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Hobbit_

 

 

Draco Malfoy was going to steal Severus Snape's wand.

He didn't know how, or even if he dared to, but he knew he had to. He shivered thinking about the blank-faced, cool rage he had seen Severus direct at others. Draco wondered if the unpermitted use of something as sacred as a wand would finally direct that anger at him.

But he had to as it was the only way he could think of to fix the catastrophe that had become his life.

This Catastrophe had started at the unlikeliest moment. Draco had been anticipating his Hogwarts letter his entire life and had imagined the day he would receive it as the start his life as a full-fledged wizard. He would get to go to Hogwarts! Even now with the occurrence of the Catastrophe he was giddy with anticipation to find out what that entailed.

If only if it wasn't for the Catastrophe that occurred when read his Hogwarts letter. This was because it was through his Hogwarts letter that Draco found out a piece of information that Severus had conveniently forgotten to _notify_ him of.

He was not allowed to bring his broom.

This was not acceptable. Draco could not imagine his life without the freedom of flying, and to make sure that he never would have to he was going to have to steal Severus Snape's wand.

Telling himself to be a Slytherin Draco had not outwardly reacted to the news, knowing from experience that Severus would not indulge his temper tantrums. Instead Draco had pretended to take the news calmly and slunk away to quietly scheme on how he was going to execute his plan.

After reflecting on all he knew about Hogwarts, and even forcing himself to read the entity of _Hogwarts: A History_ in pursuit of ideas he had come to the conclusion that the safest way to smuggle the broom without the house elves noticing was to shrink it and carry it in his pocket on the journey to the school.

After days of practicing the wand movements and pronunciation of the shrinking charm from where he had found it in Severus old textbooks Draco was ready to attempt his, in retrospect, rather suicidal mission.

Draco's plan relied too much on luck for his comfort, but not so much so that there wasn't a chance of it working. That brief chance of success trapped Draco into attempting it, ambition to succeed spurring him on even past his fear.

The first part had been to delay Hogwarts shopping for after July 31st, for it was on that date that Draco's plan hinged on. If after his plan to steal Severus wand does not work his continuity plan was to find a way to secretly purchase the ingredients for a shrinking solution in Diagon Alley and hope that the potion wouldn't interfere with the magic of his broom.

It had been risky enough to pretend to botch some potions to collect the necessary ingredients for the Sleeping Potion needed for his first plan. Standard Ingredient and Flobberworm Mucus were very easily missed and he could pick the Lavender and Valerian Springs from his backyard, so he was confident enough nicking the ingredient for the Sleeping Potion. He was not very eager to try again with the more noticeable ingredients needed for the Shrinking Solution- especially when the potion might wreck his broom.

It was bitter having to do all this planning to cast a simple shrinking charm when he would be getting his own wand in a couple of days. Draco knew that the minute he got his wand Severus would charm it to record every spell that that Draco would cast. 'You get into enough trouble without the help of a wand,' Severus had told him, 'be grateful that I am not confiscating it immediately.

So it was on the night of July 31st, the same day that Draco's father had died, that Draco got ready to steal Severus Snape's wand.

 


	3. Pensieve Puce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”  
> ― Søren Kierkegaard

Draco stood in front of the mirror, and with shame took in the splotchy red spots at the top of his cheekbones. He was no Gryffindor, but he felt like a coward. Each time he tried to leave his room his hand refused to open the door, or even turn the door knob. He had learned from a young age to fear Severus, but this was too much, especially when his broom was at stake. He would die without his broom, he thought to himself with frustration, so what did it matter if Severus caught him and he died now.

  
He looked down at his bare feet. Draco wiggled his toes.

  
That was it, he was doing this.

  
Draco strode to the door, gripped the handle, then promptly strode back to the mirror. He would do this, that was, after he put on his socks.

  
An hour later, the risk of dawn had moved Draco from his room to the front of the door of Severus’ study. Draco breathed heavily, cursing every thought in his brain that had formed this plan. Maybe he didn’t need his broom, he desperately thought. Hogwarts was different from the suffocating grey of Spinner’s End. He would have the freedom of his magic, and he wouldn’t need his broom to breathe in the same way. But despite his racing thoughts, the chill in his blood and the thought of a future confined to the ground, unable to get away from the press of reality, left him unable to fool himself. He would do this, even if he really, really didn’t want to.

  
The door knob to Severus’ study was a faded copper, and its round center had thick bands that flowed away from it, which at his most whimsical had always made Draco think that it resembled a daisy. Gripping it, and then slowly turning it, made his heart beat and his head swim from the rush of blood. Draco eased the door open, trying to control the sound of his breathing so he could hear each creak of the door. When he had opened the door enough to form a Draco-sized space, he slipped through, leaving the door open behind him in case he needed to slip away from Severus’ rage. Draco took in the study as his eyes adjusted to the warm light of the candle Severus had left.

  
Wait, candle? It wasn’t like Severus to leave lit flames unattended and risk fire-protection charms failing or wearing off. Spinner’s end was a muggle home, and therefore did not have the constant magical presence that would create a sufficient enough buildup of magic to offer its residents a latent protection. If a fire started in Spinner’s End, and spread on the walls of the house, it would not turn into moss or something equally improbable but harmless. It would burn the house down, leaving only what objects were lucky enough to be protected by charms. Severus had been sure to never let Draco forget this growing up.

  
If there was a lit flame, Draco realized in horror, then…

  
In the bulky armchair in the corner of the room the warm glow of the candlelight flickered over the bridge of Severus’ nose, illuminating the faint outlines of his lanky body slumped in what looked like sleep. Draco felt in that moment like he had swallowed a whole jar of blood clotting salve, so slowly did his blood throb from his ears to his hands and then down to his toes. He could only stare in muted shock at Severus’ nose, before slowly moving his eye’s up to his inky eyebrows. The lack of movement strengthened his resolve, and Draco squinted at Severus’s eye’s, trying to determine if the shadows hid glinting onyx orbs, waiting and savoring his dawning realization that he was in deep trouble, or if Severus was truly sleeping.

  
A flicker of candlelight danced over Severus’ face, and with enough relief that he thought he would vomit, Draco took in the shadow of eyelashes over Severus’ cheeks, stretching from his miraculously closed eyes. If Draco left now he would not be caught, and more importantly he would not be punished. Constantly on his mind was the fact that at Hogwarts and in Slytherin house he would not be able to hide from Severus’s derisive stare, which had always told him better than words ever could that the only reason Draco was his charge was because the only place left that would take him was muggles. Draco had done his extra best not to be a failure and mess up for as long as he had realized he was going to Hogwarts, because he was afraid that under such a gaze each resident of Hogwarts would see what Severus did. If he got caught now, Severus’ rage would follow him to Hogwarts and the golden figure of escape that Draco had dreamed of would turn into the dull grey of Spinner’s End.

  
With this in mind, Draco’s foot shuffled backwards, his hand lifting behind him to reach for the doorknob, but another flicker of candlelight froze his movements before he could fully slip away. There, at the corner of Severus’ eye’s, running down his sallow cheeks to pool at the base of his wide nostrils, was the distinctive sheen of tear tracks. Before, when he was much younger and foolish enough to ask Severus for hugs and kisses, before Severus had disciplined that foolishness out of him, Draco was always crying, his pale skin always splotchy and wet, so much so that the constant tear tracks and runny nose caused his face to be puffy and swollen, and the skin of his cheeks to flake in painful dry patches. Draco had always used the imagine of his swollen face, past the point of actual memory until it reached the status of the symbolic, to remind him of the weakness that lurked within him. To see those same tears on the immobile, expressionless face that always loomed above him, superior and strong in its control, froze Draco to the spot with a feeling that he had never experienced before. He felt like a voyager, peeking at something that he did not have the right to see, but strangest of all, despite the shame that churned in his gut, he felt like he had uncovered something powerful, something that turned him into a secret-stealer with its knowledge.

  
It was this emotion that led Draco to drop his arm from reaching towards the door, and step forward deeper into the room. The candle was placed on the mantle of the unlit fireplace, surrounded by crammed shelves and precarious piles of books, which lay next to the armchair Severus lay in. Now that his shock had loosed its grip on him, Draco noticed that across the room and tucked between the piles of books that lay on each available surface was a low squatting stool, the color of which Draco could not discern in the low light. On the padded surface of the stool was the second source of light in the room, dim enough that it was almost drowned out by the candlelight. With a wary glance to the armchair, Draco stepped towards it, resigned to the fact that his actions were no longer his own, but ruled by some version of him that had no self-preservation.

  
Two steps closer, and Draco could make out that the faint white light was coming from what looked like a wide, shallow bowl which had intricate grooves chiseled into its side, which Draco could not make out in the low light, no matter how much he squinted. A step closer and as the milky contents of the bowl came into view a faint buzzing started to build in Draco’s ears. As he moved to stand in front of the bowl, straining to hear past the buzzing to what almost sounded like the faint sound of a female voice, a sudden clanking sound broke past his concentration and tore him between the desire to jump in shock and run towards the door.

Slowly Draco looked down to the floor, which was the source of the noise. Draco took in the upturned goblet that his toe had pushed into a bottle of liquid which Draco had never seen before. Clenching his hands and cursing his luck, Draco slowly turned his body towards the armchair, hoping to his magic the sound had not been loud enough to wake Severus. The added distance made it harder to determine, but from what he could see Severus’ right eyelid was still thankfully closed, meaning that with all luck so was his left. A sudden thrill of delirious relief almost made him want to laugh at the image of Severus winking, one eye bulging with the strain of sneering at Draco in disapproval.

  
Well if he was going to fully embrace his Black heritage and slip into insanity, Draco hysterically thought, then he would have that cursed image to keep him company. Is that why the insane were always laughing manically? In fact, he could already hear the sound of his laughter, even if it did sound oddly gentle and feminine. With a lurch Draco realized that the sound was in fact coming from behind him, and with a weary turn away from the armchair he shuffled towards the faint light of the bowl and the growing sound of laughter, barely registering the feeling of cool liquid seeping into his socks from the overturned goblet.

Standing over the bowl Draco looked into its swirling, cloudy depths. This close the sound of laughter was clear, and as Draco leaned in closer he could almost make out a woman’s face, bright and happy as she laughed. The sound was so happy, so full of such foreign feeling that Draco dropped to his knees in front of the bowl.

  
Mother?

  
A swirl of red replaced the laughing face, and Draco almost cried out in loss, reaching to grip the sides of the bowl, moving his face so close to the liquid that his pointy nose almost touched it, so desperate was he to catch another glimpse of the woman. He had only seen in his parents in the few faded photographs Severus shared when he was feeling generous, but they were all from their Hogwarts years, and Severus never let him keep them, since at the corner of each photo lurked his own teenage form, his limp hair covering his eyes and his mouth sour.

  
Just a little bit closer, Draco thought, just like pressing your eyes against a window from inside a lit room in order to see outside into the dark. Only he was in the dark, and the sound of laughter was leading him into the bright, swirling depths of light. As his nose moved deeper and deeper into the water Draco wondered what the sound of his mothers voice would be like, if her laughter was so lively. He had always imagined his mother to be reserved, an image that fit the well-groomed and poised girl that she had been even in Hogwarts. What would that elegant face looked like twisted into a wide smile? Would her eyes slit on the sides like his did? The tip of Draco’s eyelashes caught the water as he blinked, and when he opened them he was standing in front of a small pond, on a sunny summer day.

  
What? Draco quickly whipped his head around, taking in the pond and muggle playground he now stood in. Had he accidentally taken a portkey?

But, no, Draco knelt down to touch the grass, which glowed a strange luminescent green color, only to have his fingers move through the daisy he was trying to pick. Before he had time to panic and wonder if he had died and turned into a ghost, a bright voice coming from across the pond distracted him.

"Sev! Sev, I did it!" 

With a sense of vertigo, the scene around him blurred together in shades of green, until with a blink he stood before two figures. The first thing to capture his attention was the source of the voice, a young girl with flaming red hair and a bright, impish smile. Cupped in her hands was what looked like a flower. She was concentrated on the figure across from her, who was even shorter than Draco and bundled up in a misfitting, ragged coat despite the weather. As the figure moved closer to peer into the girls cupped hands, under the lanky hair Draco caught a glimpse of familiar dark eyes. 

Severus? Sev? 

Draco took in a deep breath, unable to reconcile this urchin boy with the imposing man he had grown up with. Even stranger still, the young boy's pale face twisted into a tentative smile directed at the young girl, an expression that Draco had never seen him make. Draco turned to her, trying to make out if he had seen her before. She looked to be around the same age as Severus in the memories, so it was unlikely that her hair had faded into grey yet, and Draco did not remember meeting a witch with such crimson hair. He peered closer at her face, at the upturned nose and freckles across her cheeks, up to her curling eyelashes. The harder he looked the more her face blurred together, her features melting away until until with what seemed like a magnetic force he was drawn into her eyes, which he hadn't noticed until now were a clear, emerald color. 

The color of them engulfed him, glowing with an internal light, and where in one moment the girls gentle laughter was echoing around him, in the next a piercing scream jerked him into another location. Draco had no time to gain his bearings as the flashing light of spells made him instinctively duck, and crawl behind the first source of cover he saw, which was an armchair. The flash of spells illuminated the black robed figures around him, the light reflecting off of their bone white masks. A figure in the middle of the room drew Draco's attention with the inhuman cackling that was emitting from it. The figure was the only one without a mask, and while the sounds they were producing sounded like the gasping of a wild beast, their wild, black ringlets framed a feminine face. 

_Crucio!_

A screeching sound came from a huddled body in front of her. The more she laughed the more the body screamed, until its spine was arching off the floor and its limbs were contorting, sporadically thumping on the ground with each pained convulsion of their owner. With each thump, the woman kept screeching  _Crucio, Crucio, CrucioCrucioCrucio_

Draco felt weak, his throat closing in, barely letting him take shallow breaths. He had known magic was capable of powerful things, but even now his mind skirted around the idea that people would wield it in such a way, to such horrific effect. Such human suffering left him in shock, with no reference on how to process the sight before him. He wished he had a wand to protect himself, even if he knew no spells, since this was the first time in his short life that he felt the press of death so close, so near while he was so defenseless. 

He did not know how long he stood there, staring at the twitching body while the woman's laughter rang in his ears, until a thump next to the armchair and the green flash of spell-light reminded him of the presence of the other masked figures. He turned, only to throw himself backwards at the sight of the lifeless body of a small girl, her body twisted so she laid on her arm at what would have been an uncomfortable angle had she been alive. She was stretched towards the door of the room, having been given a last hope of escaping before she was killed. 

Draco screamed, but no sound left his throat, so that the tortured body had to scream for him.

There was a dead body in front of him, and it's eyes were like a dead fish, and Draco did not know how to escape, he did not know how to think, the girl was dead and her hair was so red, and he could not breathe, he couldn't breathe 

With a gasp the scene around him pulsed and turned into smoke, as a hand grabbed the back of Draco's neck and threw him backwards. With a crash, his back hit the floor and the side of his head bounced of the edge of something hard with a large crack. With a cry Draco curled into himself, grasping his throbbing head. 

He curled into himself further once he realized what had happened, and waited for Severus' silky voice to tell him his punishment, desperately holding his breath so as to stop the whimpers of pain from escaping his throat. But the only thing that met him was silence, until Draco dared to peek outside the cover of his arms to the looming figure above him. 

Severus stood there, seemingly frozen, staring at Draco's crumpled figure. When he met Draco's eye's his face pinched together.

"Get out." 

Draco did not think twice and scampered towards the door, still holding his head. He opened the door as quickly as he could, but once he was outside in the hallway he carefully closed it behind him, even as he wanted to slam it and get away as quickly as he could. Each stride toward his bedroom was a struggle, and he felt like he was treading water instead of moving down the same hallway that he had traveled his whole life. Once he got to his room and grasped the doorknob he almost sagged in relief when it was closed behind him and he was in his familiar room. But no, his frantic brain whispered, he wasn't safe yet and Draco wildly looked around until he set his eyes on the chair of his study, which he dragged with a large screeching sound to lodge under the doorknob of his bedroom door. 

The action made him feel safe enough to collapse in his bed, and smother his face in his pillow where wet sobs finally clawed their way out of his throat.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked this up almost five years after I started writing it, since this was the only fanfiction I have ever written, and I wanted to try to remind myself of things that I enjoyed doing. 
> 
> Unfortunately I don't think I've improved in my writing much, but I do hope that anyone reading enjoyed it just a little, since to my surprise I did enjoy writing it! Hopefully next chapter poor Draco will enjoy his life a little bit more!


End file.
